


The One Where Enjolras Finds Out

by becominghistoric



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, I'm Sorry Victor Hugo, M/M, general silliness, it's a Friends AU how did this happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-05-18
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:21:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becominghistoric/pseuds/becominghistoric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When... When were you... under me?” for the first time in his life, Enjolras is struggling to put a coherent sentence together.</p><p>...So you know the moment in Friends where Rachel drunkenly calls Ross and says she's got closure? I E/R-ed it up. With some added Les Amis shenanigans (think Courfeyrac and Grantaire talking like drunk teenage girls, but with a bit less crying).</p><p>Prepare for silliness. (Also, seeing as this is rated general audiences, warning for the odd bit of swearing!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The One Where Enjolras Finds Out

To Grantaire: 2 FOR 1 COCKTAILS. MUSAIN BAR. NOW.

To Courfeyrac: Cocktails, really?

To Grantaire: CHEAP. (everyone is busy please come i dont want to drink them all on my own please)

To Courferyrac: Be there in 30 mins.

To Grantaire: <3333333333333333333333333

***

Two hours and countless cocktails later (“R, we’re trying every single one with a dirty name!” Grantaire had underestimated quite how many that would entail.), they are both slumped across a small table, until Courfeyrac sits up with a sudden burst of energy and declares “R, you and me, we’re... we’re like the three musketeers.”

Grantaire is sure that there’s a miscalculation in there somewhere, but he can’t quite place it. He moves into a more upright position, albeit at a considerably slower pace than Courfeyrac. “Why?”

“I dunno. I think we’d look good in the outfits...” he grabs Grantaire’s hand suddenly and says, with as much sincerity as someone with four cocktail umbrellas in their hair can, “Hey, I’m really glad you came, you’re so great. You’re just... you’re so... _Great_.”

“No, I’m just-”

“Yes! I won’t hear it, I won’t. You’re great, you are.”

Courfeyrac’s hand is now clamped across his mouth to shush him, but he still manages to mumble glumly “Enjolras doesn’t think so.”

“Aw, no, babe, he does, he _does_. He doesn’t deserve you anyway, you’re so great.”

“No, no he-”

“You need to move on, you need to be closed. No, closure. You need to be closure. That’s the one.” He pats Grantaire's head, and looks like he's about to continue. Unfortunately, the appearance of Marius with a very pretty blonde girl temporarily halts Courfeyrac’s stream of high calibre advice “IT'S MARIUS! The fourth musketeer has arrived!”

 

Marius looks more like a terrified rabbit with a large vehicle hurtling towards it than a musketeer, and literally tries to back away slowly, but Courfeyrac has already tangled himself around him, and soon they’re in a heap on the floor. The girl seems completely unworried by all of this, and takes it upon herself to sit next to Grantaire, then offers him her hand “Hi, I’m Cosette.”

He hands her a chewed cocktail umbrella and sighs loudly, “Grantaire,” he replies.

“What’s wrong, Grantaire?” The girl, Cosette, seems genuinely interested, even a little concerned.

“Oh, it’s stupid, you don’t want to know.” She looks at him expectantly, so he sighs again and whispers conspiratorially “Enjolras doesn’t like me. _But_ , Courfeyrac says I need to be closure.”

Cosette leans in and whispers back “You mean you need closure?" he nods in response, and she thinks for a moment "Marius mentioned something about... Never mind. It might be a good idea. Tell him you don’t care, and that you’re worth more, y’know? No point waiting around for someone who's oblivious.”

“Yeah, you're right. You know what, I think I’m gonna call him.” He sits up with resolve and calls to Marius, who is still trying to disentangle himself from a very tall, drunk 24-year-old, and is currently only succeeding in being cuddled to death, “Hey, Pontmercy, I need your phone.”

“Why?” comes the strangled response.

“Mine is at home. I need closure. I am calling Enjolras.”

“YES!” screeches Courfeyrac, he leaps up and drags a bemused Marius with him, who reluctantly pulls out his phone and hands it to Grantaire.

 

After a few minutes of fumbling and swatting away a worried Marius’ hands (“Careful, I only got it last week.” “Marius, you are hindering my closure process, this is against my human rights.” “Fine.”) he finds the right number and hits call.

“Ugh, voicemail.” He turns to his eagerly waiting friends (Cosette is a friend now, he’s decided he likes Cosette a lot.) “Just waiting for the beep.” They nod encouragingly “ENJOLRAS! Hi. It’s Grantaire. I’m just calling to say that everything’s fine, and I’m really happy for you and your justice and stuff. I’m gonna call you Enjustice now.” He giggles to himself “Get it? Nah, you don't like jokes, do you. And... I’m gonna paint you a poster for your thing, like to help save the people. See, I’m helping you with all your shit, so obviously I am over you. _I am over you_.” He takes a deep breath and grins, drawing out the last sentence “And _that_ , my friend, is what they call _closure_.” Then he hangs up the phone and gleefully drops it into a half-empty glass of Sex on the Beach, as Courfeyrac and Cosette clap and Marius shrieks in dismay.

***

Drunken Grantaire had decided that it was a very good idea to crash at Courfeyrac’s apartment. Courferyac’s apartment, which he conveniently happens to share with Enjolras. He can’t remember much of last night (although he has a very vivid memory of  Cosette beating a large, bearded biker in a pint chugging competition), but a substantial part of his subconscious is screaming that he has something to be very embarrassed about, in regards to Enjolras.

He stumbles blearily into the kitchen and finds the very person he is dreading encountering, but Enjolras only smiles and hands him a mug of coffee, so maybe he’s safe and nothing terrible happened “Hey R, you look like you need this more than me. How was your cocktail night?”

“Well, we met Marius’ new girlfriend. Then I think I had 5 glasses of something called a Slippery nipple...”

Enjolras laughs “Oh dear. I’m just waiting for Combeferre to arrive, then we’re off to the... Why’re you looking at me like that?”

“I... I feel like I had a dream about you last night, but I can’t remember.” Grantaire rubs his eyes, and looks towards the cupboard where Courf keeps his paracetamol.

“Um, okay.”

“I dunno, did we speak on the phone or something?”

“No, I had it switched off so I could concentrate. Actually, I need to check my messages.” He walks into his room, and a few seconds later calls out “Hey, R, I got a message from you! This should be interesting.”

“Oh my god.” Images of dropping Marius’ phone into a glass fill his mind, and panic rises in him as everything comes flooding back, and he runs towards Enjolras’ bedroom. “Hang up the phone, E, give me the phone, givemethephone.”

 

It’s lucky that Grantaire is considerably shorter than Enjolras, because in his panic he flings himself onto the other man’s back, and clings to him like a severely hungover monkey. It’s all too late, though. “Enjustice?”

“Oh my god.”

“And... You’re over me?”

Grantaire drops to the floor and buries his face in the carpet “Ohmygodohmygod.”

“When... When were you... under me?” for the first time in his life, Enjolras is struggling to put a coherent sentence together “R, do you... were you...”

“I’ve sort of had feelings for you...” the words are still being spoken into the carpet, but they’re audible “for a while.”

“You’ve had feelings for me? I need to lie down... No I’m gonna stand.” He begins to pace “Ermm. So, you’re over me?”

Slowly, Grantaire drags himself up from the refuge of the carpet “I dunno. Are you into me?”

The phone beeps in Enjolras’ hand and he gazes at it, clearly having forgotten that he was still holding it “Oh, ‘Ferre is here. I... I can’t do this right now, Grantaire.” He runs his hands through his hair, then walks out, grabbing his jacket and speech notes from the kitchen counter, before glancing back, looking slightly panic stricken “I have a conference, I can’t do this now.” Then he practically runs out of the door.

With impeccable timing, Courfeyrac bursts out of his room, looking remarkably fresh considering the units of alcohol consumed the night before “Morning, sunshine! What’ve I missed?”

***

Grantaire had traipsed home an hour or so later, after Courfeyrac had laughed throughout the entire story of his ordeal (“You actually leapt on his back, oh my _god_!”), feeling ridiculous and miserable. It was raining, so by the time he got back he was soaking wet and had decided that he was furious with Enjolras. He ignored Jehan’s questioning look as he slammed into his room and began to angrily attack a canvas.

 

Hours must have passed since then, it’s getting dark out, and his canvas is layered with so much paint that it’s verging on becoming a paving slab, but he feels somewhat soothed. Jehan taps his door cautiously and says “Enjolras is here, I’m going out.”

Grantaire grits his teeth. This is it, then. He opens the door, expecting something along the lines of an apology. Even Enjolras must understand that reacting like that to discovering someone’s feelings for you (in possibly the most excruciatingly embarrassing way ever), is bad. Even if that person is your mostly drunk, always cynical friend, who spends a lot of his time annoying the crap out of you.

Instead, he is met by a red-faced, fuming Enjolras, who is already yelling at him “You had _no right_ to tell me that.”

“What?”

“You had no right! I... I fucked up my speech, Grantaire. Combeferre had to take over, it was horrific...” he’s pacing, shooting Grantaire the occasional glare, then he stops abruptly in front of him, and grabs his t-shirt “Why did you tell me?”

“I was drunk,” he tries to pull away, but to no avail “what do you mean, I had no right?”

“You shouldn’t have told me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I embarrass you? Is me being stupidly in love with you for the past 5 years really so... so _abhorrent_ , that you were too disgusted by the thought of it to finish your speech properly?” Grantaire is going to regret this, but his fury has returned, and it’s taking an awful lot of willpower not to punch Enjolras.

“You love me?” Enjolras deflates suddenly and lets him go, but Grantaire’s still seeing red, and a reasonable response is impossible right now.

“Yeah. So fuck off.”

“What?”

He takes a deep breath, “Get out. I know you want to leave, and probably spend the rest of your life avoiding my company, so I’m making it easier for you.”

“I... Oh, fine.” Enjolras’ scowl has returned, “I don’t give a fuck. Fine.” he marches out and slams the door behind him.

 

Grantaire wants to be angry, it’d be so much easier if he was, but now he just feels overwhelmingly stupid. He sinks into a nearby chair and tries to fight off tears of frustration. He’s unsuccessful. A few minutes later there’s a knock at the door. He puts on his best angry-and-definitely-not-crying face (again, not particularly successful) and walks over to jerk it open, with as much contempt as he can mange “What now? Oh...” This isn’t what he had expected. Enjolras looks very... not angry. A little sad, maybe, but mostly something else. Something Grantaire can’t quite bring himself to acknowledge yet.

“Did you mean it, that you love me?” He looks so sincere, and Grantaire decides that he prefers this look to any of his fiery, impassioned ones, but he tells himself to focus. This has the potential to be one of the most important things that has ever happened to him, and all he can do is stare at the way Enjolras’ curls are framing his face.

“Um, I think. I know. Yeah.” There is a brief pause, and he’s about to backtrack, and a sarcastic comment is just about to trip off his tongue, when suddenly Enjolras is smothering it with his mouth, and he has completely forgotten what is was anyway, and he needs to buy Courferyrac and Cosette all of the cocktails in the world, and while he’s at it he should probably check that Marius’ phone insurance covers ‘drunk friends with romantic dramas’, and oh god, why is he thinking about any of this now. So instead he stops thinking about it, and kisses Enjolras back.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever written, and I feel like I need to apologise to someone, somewhere, but I had fun. I hope you did too!
> 
>  
> 
> Writing Tumblr [here](http://becominghistoric.tumblr.com/) :) Feedback always appreciated, etcetcblahblahblah.


End file.
